Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Mardi Gras humbug

Mardi Gras is exactly the kind of holiday I like: overindulgence is not only tolerated, it's actively encouraged on that last binge as you skid into Lent. Go on, drink fifteen hurricanes and stick your dick in a trannie hooker, 'cause you know you can't do it again for 40 days. Cavort today, get ashes smeared on your throbbing forehead tomorrow. Ain't it grand?

Booze, beads, and boobs. It doesn't get any more festive than that, folks. Throw in a few dozen paczkis and I'm thinking it's a celebration that should be stretched out over a week. Yeah, I could wallow in that bloated bastards' paradise for days on end.

So how did I spend my favorite of holidays? What wild, spirited activity did I undertake in the spirit of do it 'til you're satisfied?

I shopped. For groceries. I played Liberty City Stories. I watched Millionaire Matchmaker.

No paczkis, no boobs (well, I did peek at my own in the mirror and then threw myself a strand of beads, but that makes today no different from every other day of the year), not even a drop of alcohol has sullied my liver today. What the fuck, people? I need an intervention!

Being Protestant, I always felt left out of the ash thing. We have an Ash Wednesday service, but usually no ashes. I've watched snippets of the millionaire show. Have you seen one of those millionaires you'd want to hang out with? Boring, rude . . . makes me thankful for my weekly paycheck kind of guy. (No offense to the millionaires who read here. Peace to you, y'all millionaires.)

I went to my local Mardi Gras parade, where I stood on the street - without a drink, mind you - and competed with the 7 year old girl standing next to me for the beads thrown at us from the "floats" - cars belonging to our local merchants gussied up in green, yellow and purple decorations. It was actually incredibly fun. I was home by 9 p.m. Probably before you finished your grocery shopping.

I married a good Catholic boy who vaguely observes the "no meat on Friday" rule. I was raised Baptist and jumped ship on that when I moved in with my boyfriend (and future husband).

I'm not observing Lent which means I can still drink and eat donuts. Unfortunately, I still don't have any bazongas...

Since I'm rambling, lemme just say that I'm feeling very "humbug" right about now and would dearly love to crawl under the covers and stay there for a few days. 1) Because I'm hella cranky and 2) because it's damn cold, yo.